Chapter 62 The Terms of Peace
The safe house still stood.
The walls hadn’t collapsed. The roof hadn’t caved in. Nothing had burned.
And yet it felt hollow.
Everything they had built there was gone. The belief that if they were careful enough, smart, they could control the ending. All of it felt useless now. Like smoke that had already drifted away.
Liam paced the living room with his phone pressed to his ear. He kept his voice low, steady, the way he always did when he was holding something together by force.
Finn, Rory, Mark and the ones who were still alive with Alessia sat on the couch with Siobhan in front of her. She wiped blood from Siobhan’s hands with a damp cloth, slow and careful, even though she already knew it wouldn’t help.
Her father’s blood.
The thought landed wrong every time it crossed her mind. Impossible to fully accept.
Siobhan didn’t react, cry or flinch. She just stared at nothing, eyes open, somewhere far away. Whatever had broken inside her at the mansion hadn’t come back yet.
Elena sat in the corner with her cane across her lap, watching everything. Her face was calm. The kind of calm that came from surviving long enough to know grief never left, it just learned to sit quietly.
They had escaped through the tunnels like they planned.
That was the only part that went right.
The gala had turned into slaughter. Thirty-seven dead bodies of agents ,guards and guests who had only been there to drink and smile and pretend this world was glamorous.
The Agent Alessia shot survived. Of course he did.
By morning, the story was already set. A tragic and senseless cartel attack. No corruption, confessions or Don admitting to murder in front of half the city.
Just paperwork burying the truth again.
And Salvatore Scarpetti was dead. Not arrested, exposed or judged but dead on a ballroom floor, his skull crushed by a fire poker wielded by a terrified college student.
Liam ended the call and lowered the phone.
“It’s done,” he said quietly. “Meeting’s set tomorrow night at red Hook warehouse.”
Alessia looked up. “Who’s coming?”
“Everyone who matters.” He stared out the window at the dark sky. “The Dons, advisors and the families already circling Scarpetti territory.” His jaw clenching. “Valeria too.”
Elena let out a dry sound that might have been a laugh. “Of course she’ll be there. Blood always draws sharks.”
Alessia set the cloth aside. Her hands were finally clean. They still didn’t feel like hers.
“What are you going to offer them?”
Liam didn’t answer right away.
“Everything,” he said finally.
Her chest tightened. “Liam…”
“The ports, routes and infrastructure your father controlled.” He turned to her. His eyes looked older than they had days ago. “It’s the only way this doesn’t turn into a war.”
Elena leaned forward. “And what do you get for handing over a kingdom?”
“Peace,” Liam said. “For Siobhan, Alessia and whatever’s left of my family.”
He exhaled slowly.
“I’m dissolving the Scarpetti organization. All of it. Anything worth keeping folds under O’Sullivan protection. The rest goes to the cartel. No vacuum or scramble.”
Alessia stood. “The people will revolt.”
“Let them.” His voice was flat. “I’m done.”
The words hit harder than shouting ever could.
“I’m done with this life,” he said. “With the violence. With choosing who dies so someone else can live another day.” His hands shook slightly when he took hers. “If this gives us a chance to walk away, I’ll take it.”
“You’re the heir,” she said softly.
“I’m exhausted,” he replied, and the honesty in it broke something in her. “I don’t want to win anymore. I just want us alive.”
She searched his face and saw the truth there. Not fear or doubt but a decision already made.
“What about your father?” she asked. “The legacy?”
“He’s not waking up,” Liam said quietly. “And maybe that’s a mercy.”
Elena stood, tapping her cane against the floor. “The families won’t like this. A woman overseeing Scarpetti remnants. Tradition doesn’t bend easily.”
“Then they can challenge me,” Liam said. “I won’t sacrifice them to keep old men comfortable.”
He turned back to Alessia.
“I need you there tomorrow. Not as a symbol or anyone’s daughter or wife. As my equal.”
She swallowed. “What exactly are we doing?”
“A controlled collapse,” he said. “We shrink. We get quieter. We give up the parts that make us targets.”
“And then?”
“Then we disappear.”
The simplicity of it scared her more than any gunfight ever had.
“They won’t accept it,” she said.
“They don’t have to,” he replied. “They just have to tolerate it.”
She nodded slowly. “Okay.”
The next night, Alessia stood in the Red Hook warehouse dressed in black pants and a plain sweater. No jewelry except her ring.
She felt exposed without armor or titles.
Just herself.
The Dons arrived one by one. Older men with heavy stares measuring her like a problem.
Valeria came last.
She sat across from them, calm and unreadable.
Liam stood when everyone was seated.
“Scarpetti territory is unstable,” he said. “If we don’t control the fallout, we all bleed.”
Murmurs followed.
“I propose we end it officially.”
Valeria’s voice cut in. “And the ports?”
“They’re yours,” Liam said.
That landed hard.
Arguments followed with calculations.
Finally, the question came.
“What about the daughter?” Don Ricci asked, looking at Alessia. “Does she accept this?”
Every eye turned to her.
This was the moment she had prepared for her whole life without realizing it.
She stood.
“My father built power through fear,” she said. “And destroyed his own family doing it.”
She met their stares.
“I don’t want what he left behind. Let it end.”
The silence that followed was heavy.
Then Don Marchetti nodded. “The girl is right.”
Just like that, it was over.
Valeria stood and shook Liam’s hand.
“Well done,” she said. Her gaze slid to Alessia. “You’re impressive.”
The room went still.
“It’s a joke,” Valeria said lightly, then paused. “Mostly.”
The meeting ended soon after.
When the warehouse emptied, only the three of them remained.
“You made enemies tonight,” Valeria said. “This world doesn’t forget.”
“I know,” Liam said.
She looked at Alessia. “And you?”
Alessia thought of her mother. Of years spent sharpening hate until it nearly swallowed her.
“Freedom,” she said.
Valeria nodded once. “Good luck keeping it.”
She left.
Liam pulled Alessia close.
“We survived,” he said.
“That’s not winning,” she replied.
“It’s close enough.”
He kissed her forehead.
They walked out together into whatever came next.
Not victorious.
Not clean.
But alive.